


LEGOs

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 13:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11487366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: Geordi and Data tempt Tasha into spending her afternoon differently than she planned.





	LEGOs

**Author's Note:**

> Eventually, I'll write fix-it fic; for now, there's just this short and sweet fic about friendships and tender romance.

“Tasha! Great!” Geordi, one hand holding the turbolift open, gestures wildly for her to come over. Behind him, Data’s holding several huge plastic tubs on one hand like an old timey waiter. He offers her his best approximation of a smile, mimicking Geordi’s wave with his free hand.

“I have…” Tasha motions down the hall. Riker and Worf are waiting for her in Holodeck 2 for a training session, and after that, she and Deanna–

“C'mon.” Geordi’s voice is wheedling, and his grin is irresistible. He leans further out of the turbolift, lowering his visor to offer her a wink. “You know you’ll have more fun with us, Tash.”

Data nods very seriously in agreement.

Tasha drifts closer, fighting the smile that wants to break out in answer. “What’s in the boxes?”

“Geordi calls them ‘LEGOs’,” Data tells her. “We are planning to begin construction in my quarters, as there is 40% more floor space due to my 'minimalist preferences’.”

Tasha’s grin steals across her face despite her best intentions. “What’re you building?” she asks, then throws up a hand. “No, wait, lemme guess–scale model of the _Enterprise_?”

Geordi scoffs. “Don’t be silly, Lieutenant. That would be trite–predictable. No, what we’re building is…” he draws himself up, beaming. “A scale model of Notre Dame!”

“Um.” She frowns, flicking her gaze from Geordi to Data. Tentatively she asks, “Why?”

Data tilts his head, yellow eyes blinking curiously. “Do we need a reason?”

Tasha buries her laugh behind one hand. “Fair enough,” she manages, hurrying to join them as the turbolift dings angrily at being held open for so long.

* * *

 

Deanna looks up as Will takes the seat across from her in Ten Forward, a heavy frown on his face. “Have you seen Tasha today?” he asks, with no preamble. She can sense his unease, though there’s no real urgency behind it.

“She’s supposed to meet me here in about five minutes,” she tells him, spinning her straw in her drink as she studies the little line between his brows.

Her words are no assurance to him; he remains vaguely frustrated and vaguely concerned. “She was _supposed_ to meet me and Worf earlier,” he mutters, rapping his knuckles on the table and then leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

“She did not show?” Deanna guesses.

“She did not. It’s unusual for her, to say the least.”

“There is no need to worry, Will,” she assures him, reaching across the table to set a hand over his. “She’s very happy. She’s been experiencing an almost… childlike joy all afternoon.”

Will’s lips twitch with amusement; his concern evaporated with her words, and he’s feeling smug now, teasing. There’s such familiarity between them that he knows what keeping tabs on one specific person’s emotions means. “Oh, she has, has she?” he asks, a particular twinkle in his eye.

Deanna feels her cheeks heat, and she rises gracefully from her chair, smoothing down her dress and lifting her chin imperiously. “I can show you, if you like. She hasn’t yet left; she’s going to be late for our–”

“Date,” Will supplies, with a rakish grin.

“Dinner,” Deanna states stubbornly.

“Whatever you say, Dee.” He does not believe her. (To be fair, he shouldn’t.) He rises too, nudging his chair back under with one foot, and motions for her to lead the way.

* * *

 

The door chimes, and- when Data and Geordi are too busy arguing over how best to simplify the architecture of the cathedral to be able to make it work with the number of blocks they were able to replicate- Tasha calls out, “Come in!”

Deanna’s eyes are soft as she steps inside, a smile stealing across her lips even as Tasha feels her stomach drop. “Oh, Dee, I’m so sorry, I--”

“You were obviously needed here,” she cuts in, stepping lightly over a messy pile of bricks to make her way over to where Tasha’s propping up the two sides of a six foot tall, incomplete archway. Riker trails behind her, looking decidedly amused.

Tasha smiles helplessly, swaying towards Deanna when fingertips brush lightly over her hip.

“Tash! You’re shaking the entire structure!” Geordi darts to the wall nearest to him, shooting her a glare.

She clears her throat, cheeks reddening as she straightens. “I still need to get ready; I’m dressed for Worf’s Klingon battle simulation and not much else.”

“The body armor seems a bit much for Ten Forward,” Deanna agrees teasingly.

“Oooh, Ten Forward, huh?” Geordi wiggles his eyebrows. “Hot date?”

“Just ‘dinner,’ apparently,” Riker pipes in, winking at Tasha as he comes to parade rest, surveying their handiwork so far. “You’re about to lose your support, gentlemen; what’re you gonna do to make sure this thing doesn’t fall apart when you do?”

Data considers the question for a moment, and then- gently- takes Riker by the shoulders and guides him over to take Tasha’s place. “Replace her with a taller model,” he quips, and Geordi cackles.

Deanna laughs too, tilting her head back in her mirth, and Tasha reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. They drift away from the others, just far enough for Tasha to feel comfortable whispering, “You look beautiful.”

Data glances her way curiously, but some subroutine or other kicks in to keep him from commenting as Riker and Geordi rib each other good naturedly.

“We don’t have to go if you wish to keep helping Data and Geordi,” Deanna whispers back, dark eyes searching Tasha’s. “I know how much fun you’ve been having.”

“Not at all comparable to the fun I could be having with you,” Tasha promises. She glances over her shoulder, and- finding Data once more consumed in debate with Geordi- leans in to press her lips softly to Deanna’s. “I’ll meet you in Ten Forward in fifteen?” she murmurs, drawing back just slightly.

Deanna smiles, a teasing sparkle in her eye. “Don’t be late this time.”

 


End file.
